Letters to Amon
by Immortal-Immoral
Summary: The Revolution has ended. The Lieutenant has been captured and held in a Republic City hospital under heavy guard, not knowing if Amon has survived. To come to terms with what happened and what didn't, Lieutenant decides to write letters to Amon containing his life story that he never plans to send. Will there ever be a chance to share what business prevented them from having?
1. Chapter 1

Post Endgame

The officials ordered that he be sedated. Their captive, battered and bruised, fought like a wild animal before finally being disarmed and taken down by the best and brightest of Republic City's Police. It was marvellous and terrifying to watch – the last fight of a heartbroken man who had lost everything but his freedom, a freedom he could see slipping from his fingers. No more. A set of broken restraints and a dislocated shoulder later, the Equalist Lieutenant was handcuffed to his hospital bed, injected and locked inside his room. "Hospital arrest", they called it. The healer reset the joint and started to work on the worst of his wounds. His pale skin was littered with scars. Stab wounds, burns, trauma. He had obviously had a good healer in the past to have survived so much. He refused to say who. The healer talked to him quietly as she cleaned and dressed his open injuries. Aside from being silent, he was a model patient. Unmoving, unresisting. Drugged and dazed as he was he refused to sleep. He was too angry. He was shaken to the core with hurt.

The healer's voice droned in the Lieutenant's mind like background noise. He had stopped trying to listen after wordlessly refusing to give his name, age or place of birth for filing. The revolution was over in the streets, but not in his heart. He would oblige to no bender, even if she was a wrinkled old doctor. He quietly pondered the past several years as she questioned him. The only person who could have tended to him before was Amon and of course now he knew his secret. He had no doubt Amon had used his water bending to heal him in the past. It explained his swift recoveries and why age did not seem to be slowing him down. Every morning that he woke to find Amon already up, he might have been saving him as he slept. He had never once suspected something sinister behind the insisted bed-rest that seemed to work so well. Something seemed eerily familiar about the swirling water that mended him now. It made his insides squirm with disgust that had had been so blind.

Hours passed. No longer bleeding, the old healer started work on his hands, a collection of callouses and layers of scars. There was a lot about him that suggested possible connections in his past. The military style haircut, his physical fitness and his healed injuries from long ago spoke volumes. The healer placed him somewhere in his mid-forties, probably of non-bending Earth Nation or Fire Nation heritage. He certainly was no Air Nomad or Water Tribe member. His hands said he had been a fighter his whole life, making him as tough as they come, street-smart and in remarkable shape for a man his age. There were reading glasses in a small compartment of his kali sticks generator along with a small notebook and first aid kit. She had a good feeling he may have been in the military police before the reforms came and only metal benders could apply. No family came to the hospital to visit or claim him, so any connections he may have had were probably long severed. It would be unsurprising if Amon was the only person her patient had trusted in a long time. Now, it was all over.

"You were close weren't you?" the healer's voice suddenly said. For some reason, he heard her, clear as a bell, through the haze of thoughts.

"What?" the first word in hours slipped through his lips.

The old lady's face softened.

"You and Amon. You were close. Not just as soldiers, but as men."

Lieutenant's jaw clamped shut, determined not to say another word. Especially not about that.

The old woman nodded quietly, deciding not to push any further.

"We would very much like to know who you are so we can treat you fairly and appropriately once you are discharged from hospital." she said. "You will not be sent to prison with the general population, that much is clear. The White Lotus will take custody of you. You've been awfully quiet. Are you sure you don't want to share anything with us? A name would be good."

The broken man sat up straighter, ignoring the pain that was left in his body.

"I am the Lieutenant of Amon's Equalist Revolution."

The door opened and in marched the chief of police and two cronies.

"Katara, take a break." the stern looking woman said. "We need to question him for a bit."

"Alright, Lin. I'll be back shortly."

As soon as the door closed, Police Chief Bei Fong threw down three slightly blurred expanded photographs. Each had a different man on it, any of which could have been a photo of him twenty years ago in an annual police photograph. He glanced over them, careful not to let his face give away which was correct. In his medicated haze, it was hard to pick his own face out anyway. An out-dated headshot might slip passed them.

"It's common practice to wipe our data bases of certain individuals serving the law when they need to be relocated." she said. "But they are limited in number. Either you were relocated and scrubbed by the system, or you hid yourself among the profiles to be disposed of. Either way, we'll find your official records. I know a military man when I see one. You can't hide that from me. Even if you've wiped yourself from the database, someone will remember you or have a hard copy. We're digging. We will match any photos we find with any information that comes to light and we will identify you."

The Lieutenant gave her a weak smile. How many people that fitted his physical description had passed through the police doors in the past twenty to thirty years? Probably several and memory was gloriously flawed when it came to faces. Good luck. There were no remarkable features about him at all to make certain his identity from a dozen others.

"So when did you stop serving, huh?" Bei Fong prodded. "You can't be that old. Not older than me anyway. You might have even been an investigator. I probably wouldn't have worked with you though, being a bender and all. And by the way, I'm still a bender."

She raised her hand and crushed the doorknob. Lieutenant rolled his eyes, he could not resist. He would fight her right now in his hospital gown if he could, no holds barred.

"You studied Eskrima and fencing, I can tell that too." she continued. "That narrows it down a little more. We haven't taught those in the academy in twenty years. So you would have joined up as a young thing if you're forty-ish now. Wasn't policing what you signed up for or were you just plain old crooked?"

He wanted to bite back. All his life he tackled everything head first. It was who he was. Frankly, he hated everything about her from the sound of her voice to her scowl. But she was formidable.

"If I could be in your head right now I'd leave you a shell." she declared. "See how you like."

Someone knocked at the door softly. The Chief picked up her photos, repaired the doorknob and left with her goons, trading places with the person outside the door. The old healer, Katara, returned clutching something in her hands. It was his notepad and pen set from his backpack. The Lieutenant was sure the booklet was blank when they captured him. He was good at destroying evidence. He knew all the tricks, but burning paper was just too damn easy.

"I know you don't feel like talking. No soldier wants to be the one who broke." She slid the writing set onto his nightstand, just in reach. "We'd very much like to know about you. We're not fighting anymore, the revolution is over. You were deceived but you can let it go now. Look out for yourself. You could write your story like a letter, one that will never be sent. Address it to someone and say as much as you want to. Really, if we have no record of you so we'd be none the wiser if you lied. You really did a thorough job wiping yourself from the system. It might be therapeutic. The war is over. You don't have to bottle it up anymore."

The old lady set down the pen and paper. She leaned forward and tilted to her head to meet his icy eyes but he refused to look at her. His jaw remained clenched, hands balled in fists.

"When you're ready." she said, then rose and left the room for the night.

The fallen soldier waited until early in the morning before picking up the pen. There was no hope of picking his locks with what he had. They needed to be manipulated with metal bending. Instead of struggling, he decided to try to start to write.

_Dear Amon_

He stopped immediately as the words formed on the page. He scribbled out a word and replaced it.

_To Amon_

That did not seem right either. How would he address his former leader if he saw him again? Probably with a punch square to the face.

_Amon…_

Angry tears burned in his eyes and a cold grip squeezed his insides. He tasted bile and bit down on the pen, trying not to wretch. He considered throwing the writing set aside in rage. He considered thrashing again against his bonds and risk ripping out his shoulder again. He did neither. The pen hovered for a few minutes and then, like water, the words began to flow but with all the transparency and chill of ice.


	2. Letter One

_Amon,_

_I haven't written a letter in a long time. There's been no one to write to. I was always by your side and that was all that mattered. There's no one I'd rather talk to than you, now more than ever. We spent a lot of time together but business got in the way, it always meant there were things we never got to share. If we'd had that chance, maybe we wouldn't be in this mess. I don't know why I didn't push it. You were my everything and that was terrifying. At first, I was worried we would get too close and it would be the end of us. The Equalist movement would crumble under our clouded judgement. We stumbled, tripped and fell head over heels before snowballing and growing together with our mission. I would have told you anything you wanted to know. I thought I knew everything I needed to know about you, even the grimiest parts. Now, finally, after everything we did have I realise we were intimate but we were never close enough to be truly honest with each other. I know too much about you now. I want to take the time to tell you about me._

_My name isn't important. I was never really attached to it. I went into police academy when I was seventeen and was fast tracked to the military branch, graduating when I was twenty. It was the same year my father died, 146ag. I hate even writing that. "AG". After Genocide. I couldn't give a rat's ass about bender history and it gets slapped onto every-day things like the date. Anyway, it was the same year my dad died. He wasn't anything special. He never accomplished anything. I have no idea who I inherited my determination from since my mother wasn't a shining example of anything in particular either. In the force I met a woman named Asuman. We got partnered up because of our similar cultural background. It was a four year stint we served together before I was given the chance to move into the investigating side of the law. I didn't want the career change. If I'd taken it, I would have turned into some limp desk jockey. She did, so that ended our professional relationship. After that happened, we got a little closer outside of work – and by a little, I mean a lot. If this how you figure out I bat for both teams, I apologise, because there's more. I asked her to marry me and she accepted. Things were great but we never had the time for that wedding. A few years later we were getting ready to call it quits on our domestic bliss. I worked and she fell apart as her career went nowhere. We were always at each other's throats, yo-yoing between infatuation to pure hatred. I worked more hours. She got worse. Two royally fucked up people ended up staying together because in a way we were all each other had. It was right about then that we found out we had a bundle of joy on the way. I had no idea what to do when she said she wanted to keep it. Was I angry? Yes. Was I terrified? You bet. But she was happy and the storm seemed to ebb. One night I promised I'd stay so that our child could have a chance to have a normal life. We didn't have to love each other to make it work, we decided. The next morning I realised what I'd signed up for but I didn't want to go back on my word. I wanted to try, even if what I could give wasn't her ideal. Just trying surely meant something. So, I worked solidly for the pregnancy. I made it to Lieutenant, began saving up money for the baby's future and started studying fencing along with the eskrima I was already excelling at. It was a great distraction and I got really, really great at being a cop. Pay rises, awards and promotions rolled in. Anything so I didn't have to go home and see when I'd gotten myself into. I avoided Asuman at all costs. Any day with her was like drowning. She wanted to try our relationship again. I was finally questioning where my preferences were. Lucky you, I suppose. I was having my mid-life crisis and becoming the man I am today. Or the man I was yesterday, anyway._

_Then one day I got a call saying Asuman had been taken into hospital. I went numb. I wished I'd had more time to have the courage to put my foot down and leave. I didn't feel like myself anymore. My spark was gone. I felt obliged to go and be with her but not until I finished my shift. Priorities, huh? The more I mull it over the worse it sounds. But that's what I did. So, I got to the ward hours later and there she was. By the time I arrived I'd missed the whole labour and there was someone else in my life. The nurse handed me this screaming, wriggling bundle of blankets. It was so surreal. I can barely describe it. In that moment, I became a father. The moment I looked down on the baby I was holding, she stopped crying and I got my first good look at her. She honestly looked like me. That sounds strange, I know, but I knew immediately she was a piece of me. She shared my blue grey eyes, the eyes are windows to the soul. Or so I'm told. I loved her the second the laid eyes on her. Maybe before I had doubted the baby was mine, especially with how erratic and unpredictable Asuman had become. It could have been an easy way out of my promise to stay. Everything changed. I wanted her completely. We called her Arzu, "desire", the first thing we agreed on completely in years._

The Lieutenant put down the pen and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. Arzu had been so tiny in his arms that day. He could have held her forever. He sighed and looked out the window. The sun was coming up. He tucked the letter under his pillow and lay back, deciding to get some shut eye. The professionals came in to check on him in turn and he stayed quiet. Bei Fong questioned him again. He would smile at odd times to confuse her. She left and the doctors took his vitals again. He declined to answer any questions about his life, leaning back on the pillows that concealed his letter. He waited for the old healer, Katara. She annoyed him the least.

Eventually, she came in with clean bandages for him. He quietly let her remove the obsolete dressings. She was clearly an expert. There was barely a mark.

"Are you ready?" she asked at the end of her time with him. She extended a delicate, wrinkled hand. The Lieutenant nodded, moved his pillows and handed Katara the letter. The folded paper slipped from his fingertips and he felt a pang in his stomach. Did he want anyone reading what he had written? Did his existence even matter anymore? There was no knowing what this knowledge could do now.


	3. Letter Two

The bandages were so thick on his hands he could not flex them. Amon was pulled out of the water weeks ago, deeply burned and presumed mortally wounded. Anyone would have looked at the carnage left by the explosion and thought the same. No one was more surprised than him when a letter appeared in the South Pole prison bearing his name. Scribblings confirming its authorisation into the high security facility from the twin prison in the North. He could not open it so it sat on his windowsill unopened. Amon could not do a lot anymore, compared to his old life. His bending was powerfully blocked, he was bed ridden and most days he could not even scream in pain, no matter how intensely he felt it.

One letter became two. Amon ached to know who had sent them, what they said. Eventually, the bandages on his fingers came off and were replaced with gauzy gloves. The scars allowed only some movement. Healers repaired his skin as best they could but it would never look the same again. Maybe after years of treatment he could be recognisable and move almost naturally. His destroyed nose might be reconstructed one day by surgery, but it was unlikely they could form a graft. Most of the doctors passed over any thoughts of reconstruction given he was a man in a mask, and possibly the most hated man alive. Amon quietly spent his days in bed, covered from head to foot at all times against infection and only dressed in loose robes. One day, he was allowed to stand. He swayed weakly and leaned onto the frame provided by the doctors. His muscles were wasted, suffering atrophy. Pain shot through is body. Other places felt numb. He mustered a frustrated groan in his throat. Sensation may never return to normal, they told him. He wondered why they were trying to save him. Why would they possibly want him alive? Who was caring for him? He had his suspicions. The White Lotus. He could not speak yet to question them. That was still weeks away, when his skin regained more elasticity and the bandages could be loosened. He reached out defiantly for the letters and his fingers shook pathetically as he struggled to open the wax seal bearing the White Lotus mark. His heart fluttered. It _was_ them. For some reason, someone had let him get this envelope. He had been allowed by his captors to read it. The seal finally gave. A growl escaped his throat with effort.

He recognised the Lieutenant's handwriting and note paper immediately.

The fallen god drank in the words like they would save him from his disgrace in some way. Amon absorbed the story on the pages, eager to know the man he had lost and feeling their distance stab him with each line. Distance he felt in mind, body and soul. Half the world was between them. Desperately he reached for the next envelope. Please, be from the Lieutenant again. The seal broke and his quivering, scabbed fingers unfolded the paper. The man he longed to know continued.

_Amon,_

_I suppose I'll continue where I left off._

_I took that desk job. They convinced me it had security. I felt like I'd betrayed a part of me in taking it. I didn't mind the crazy hours and the risk of the MP. But I wanted to be a good dad, I had got the to time to do that. It was magical. I loved being a dad. It brought out a side of me not suited to a revolution. Hear this though. I would have killed every bender on the planet if it meant keeping my little girl safe. And I would have done the same for you. I loved you as much as I loved my own blood._

_The shared bliss between Asuman and I didn't last. I hit thirty and Arzu turned one. I'd spent over a decade with the police, it was the only job I'd had in my adult life. I was somehow managing to juggle it as well as being basically a single parent. Then in 157, my job dissolved to all but occasional paperwork. Benders took over the entire police force because apparently bending families deserved wages more than non-benders. I got my own back by wiping myself from the records and selling confidential information to organised crime syndicates. I steered them certain ways, playing whole gangs like pai sho pieces. No one suspected me. There was nothing to trace, literally huge gaping holes where my life should have been. I framed some people. I stockpiled anything of value I could. My kali sticks were a prototype weapon the police force never got to test. They took my identity from me, so I twisted their odds. No one had to know I had been a cop. I had to move on once I'd patched up any leaks. So, I took a coaching job teaching fencing in the evenings at a club on the other side of the city. The savings stayed put, gathering interest for Arzu's future. Kids grow up fast. Then, it started going missing. I confronted Asuman to find the truth and I learned how sick she was. I hadn't realised how far gone she was. She refused to be treated because it would mean she could lose our daughter. We never got a sorely needed diagnosis. Again, I didn't push it. I was so sick of fighting. Then, she blamed me for not dedicating more time to my job. Said it was my fault for losing it because I was focussing too much on trying to show her up as a parent. If I had been any good at my work, I would never have been replaced. She said she regretted that Arzu was even born. And I told her if she ever said that again, I'd make sure she never saw her again._

_We moved out of our home into a smaller place, much to her disgust. We couldn't afford to stay where we were. She slipped into a silent loathing. I'd shaken her. Then the money started vanishing again, in larger sums. I finally got the whole story out of her. Gambling… Is there anything more stupid to risk your child's future on? I couldn't be home all the time and still pay the bills. She refused the treatment I looked into. We couldn't have afforded it anyway. I had to make a decision. But before I could do a thing, she packed up and left, taking Arzu with her. A restraining order was filed. I was frantic. The police might recognise me from that report. No doubt she'd considered that. Luckily, thanks to my change in appearance and my thorough scrubbing of my official records, I didn't get recognised when the hearings began. I didn't recognise any faces either. Figures. All of my colleagues were non-benders. Replaced, just like me._

_Now comes you. The person I'd end up dedicating my life to. I hope you're not bored yet of my rambling but this is my letter and you can deal with it._

_When we first met I was thirty one and pretty set on getting hammered. Remember? You were buying information from me in that disgusting bar under the bridge by the main north-east road. It had a really terrible homoerotic name. I've blanked it, so it must have been bad. You were wearing that original mask, the plain white one. I thought you looked like an idiot but you had a pretty sexy voice. You told me some of your fake story and all I could think about was how you might sound in bed. I barely heard a word through my buzz. I should explain. I was having a long term lapse of judgement, shall we say. About three months before our first meeting, I'd started drinking something fierce on my days off from coaching. I couldn't see Arzu and waiting for the next custody hearing was killing me. Time dragged by so slowly. I fell into bars like that one almost nightly and would come out with a different guy each time. Words can barely describe what I was feeling. I felt I had no control over anything. I was a failure. I couldn't prevent anyone or anything from being swept away from me. I'd scrub up well enough for work and court, and then collapse in my own self-pity again once it was over. You probably remember how the rest of the night went afterwards. I don't. I kept drinking after you paid and things are a little blurry from there. I thought I'd never see you again. You became a memory. Then you contacted me again for more statistics. That was when you told me more about your mission, about the Equalist moment you were building underground. You had me convinced you could lead a revolution. Everything I heard, I wanted to be a part of, but I couldn't. I told you I'd been deep in the police force, still hauling some spotty hours in the bottom rungs and that was how I got my material. I told you I could get you what you needed. You asked me to join you. I made up some bullshit reason why I couldn't yet. It was a lie. I had more to my life than I was willing to let on. I thought you would judge me. You're probably judging me now if you every get to read this._

_I won sole custody of Arzu late in the year. I knew I was in bad shape so I cut down the alcohol and casual sex. It was hard, I can tell you. Sometimes it felt crazier that I would want to give up all that to be a parent. I might have been able to hide my problems for a time, but really, I needed to sort myself out. I had a job and dedicated savings to get my on the right side of the judge, so I pushed myself harder to get straight (so to speak), going cold turkey. I had to be my best, cutting down wasn't enough. I gave myself twenty eight days to beat it. It paid off; I won over the court and my daughter moved in with me. I continued my intel work to supplement my earnings. Things started looking up. I, the single father of a two year old with one legal job and one illegal job, actually felt the best I had in a long time. I was happy._

_Arzu started school when she was five. She looked more like me with every passing year. Don't overthink it; just trust me when I say she was a beautiful child. We took it day by day. We had a life, the two of us, a life that passed as normal. She'd sit on the crossbar of my bicycle as I'd take her to school each weekday. I'd drop her off, then cycle back home to sleep for a while before picking her up again on my way to the swordsman's club. I'd teach for a few hours and we'd head home. While she slept, I'd organise my next sale. I trained furiously. Business dried up and I became severed entirely from the police. I didn't have access to files anymore, my income was threatened. I had to up the game and start breaking into the safe houses and headquarters I knew of to get what I needed. It was fruitful. All that time, I didn't let anyone know what I was doing. A one man crime was best. No loose ends._

_Then my life changed again. Asuman forced her way back into my life. Something about her has always impaired my judgement, even worse than the bottle. I seem to be a fool for people like that. You had the same effect. She had fallen into gambling debt without access to my savings. Thunderbolt Zolt. You'll remember him. Who doesn't? Asuman sure knew how to pick her loan sharks when it came to borrowing money she didn't have. She came to my work and made a scene in front of my students and worse, Arzu. She barely remembered her mother. For years she'd only known me. I'd raised that child. Home was with me. I let my humanity get the better of me and I let her visit us at home. Asuman honestly seemed to be trying. I tried to think of it this way; if I'd drank myself into a stupor and lost custody, would I want her to let me see my daughter when I was recovering? It felt kind. I also felt I had an unspoken debt to her. Without her I wouldn't have had so much access to police records. Between our two jobs, we saw the whole operation. It was the worst mistake of my life to let her back in. Even when you ripped the bending out of that piece of filth Zolt, it couldn't change what happened. Asuman got slack. She was followed. Thunderbolt Zolt found out where I lived and where his rival's information was coming from. He found someone he could manipulate me with. Things went sour. Asuman got herself killed with her mob debt. Worse still, I lost Arzu in the crossfire. I buried my child that spring close to my parents. She was seven. _

Amon knew then that his tear ducts had recovered. He cried like a child, like the day that he ran away from his family. He cried for himself, for his Lieutenant, their families and the family they never were together. No one disturbed him, giving him space. He couldn't hurt anyone. Dinner came late that night but he had no appetite. His soup steamed the window and then went cold. Sobbing overcame him several more times the next day. The letters became streaked.

Then the third letter arrived.


	4. Letter Three

_Amon_

_I had to report the murders and wound up turning myself in. There, I learned the authorities were aware of my actions. They suspected an ex-cop was selling secrets, they just didn't know it was me. Or me and Asuman, they suspected. I remember the headline was "Married Menaces Sell Secrets". I'm no Guru Laghima, but even I could have written a better header than that. My history selling confidential material came to light and I was facing life imprisonment on charges of treason and "crimes against the people of Republic city". Never once did they threaten me with execution, which was the first thing I expected. I thought I'd be disposed of and swept under the rug. I was told this was because my case was unique. The dismissal of non-benders from the police force without reason was unconstitutional on the grounds of discrimination. There were laws forming to prevent this kind of thing, to extinguish any potential hate crimes. They feared publicity and other cases rising. A board of benders, just this once, were scared that their mistreatment of non-benders would go public and they would be charged. They hadn't changed enough laws yet to get away with it. Killing me could start a fire._

_I was placed in witness protection and the current file was wiped. I would be monitored for the rest of my life but taken care of, in return for silence. I'd be moved to another city, Ba Sing Se, to be safe from Zolt and his gang activity. If I didn't accept, I would be sent to a psychiatric ward to vanish in hoards of undesirables. Another non-bending loon claiming the government was out to get him. They even offered me my job back at one point. I don't know if it was a ruse, I rejected their offer. They tried to find a way to keep me complacent after all that had happened. They recognised I had to resort to a life of crime because of their actions, but that erased nothing. I'd had enough. Benders took my job, my security and my little girl. No parent should have to bury their child._

_The White Lotus agreed to let me gather what was left of my life before relocated to Ba Sing Se. I arranged to meet you that day in my old home after I'd been up to Arzu's grave to say goodbye. The message I gave to the contact was "_Follow the cobblestones into the forest, touch the top of the fifth lily pad_". I recognised him in the street, a stroke of luck, and told him to give you that message as fast as he could. He died of his wounds a few years ago. Anyway, forget him, he played his part well. My home was in the attic of number five, Lily crescent off Timber Street. I can't believe I came up with that stupid little riddle to describe where I lived. Not even I knew where the Lotus was lurking. You'd never been to my home but you figured it out. Unless you'd had someone follow me in the past and that's how you knew. Remember how I promised to do everything I could to rid this city of the corruption of benders? The money from the safe that I gave to you was the money I'd saved for Arzu's future. It wasn't a total lie when I said it was my life's savings. You know the rest. I proved myself to you and from there we were inseparable. You brought purpose and pride and spirit back into my sorry existence._

Amon remembered that day as if it were yesterday. "The Lieutenant" had been the older man's pseudonym even though he had not served as one for a long time. It stuck. Lieutenant never shared his real name. Amon would probably never learn it now.

Amon had indeed given orders to his operatives to follow the Lieutenant on a number of occasions in order to determine his loyalties. He knew the location well. The messenger reached him swiftly so he headed out immediately before the lead expired. He hoped that the Lieutenant would finally accept his offer to join the Equalists. He caught the man on his way out, a box of his worldly possessions tucked under his arm. Amon had always travelled with two associates for his own protection in the past, that day was no exception. They would lag behind a few paces and step in if something erupted. The men exchanged a few solemn words in the attic and left the building together, running head on into dozen White Lotus cronies. The meeting had gone on under their noses but not the escape. A brawl broke out. A lot of pent up anger was released on those poor guards. Amon's two men barely had a chance to act before the Lieutenant had set the box down and unleashed hell. Amon thought highly of the man even though he knew little about him personally – this only strengthened his opinion. This was a guy he wanted by his side.

Time passed and the Lieutenant's unfaltering loyalty brought them closer together. Their closeness went from professional, to personal, to romantic. The Lieutenant was Amon's first and only love. The revolution blossomed. Every night possible he would take the time to trace over his lover's scars and recall where they came from. He would linger on the ones that tickled or gently soothe the ones that hurt. His Lieutenant had done so much for him, always going above and beyond. That was true love. He knew it in his heart. He felt he had everything he needed to secure victory; authority over his army, devotion from his followers and, best of all, love from certain someone who would give his life to him.

The letter continued.

_I've never regretted joining the Equalists. I don't regret falling in love with the man I believed you to be. I don't want to take back a minute of what we fought for or what we built. We were exceptional together, right until the spectacular, world-shattering end. Truthfully, I have wished you were one of those nobodies I screwed after a night at the bottom of a glass. Those men were faceless, you never were. I could have given you my all for a few hours and then let you go, never having known the best and worst about you. I wouldn't have a broken heart or have dedicated my life to a traitor. But I did. I wish you'd told me the truth. I don't know how I would have taken the news. Anything could have been better than finding out the way I did. You deceived me and you probably planned to stay hidden for the rest of our lives, even when you were falling asleep beside me each night. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I gave you privacy. I never asked you what your nightmares contained when you screamed in the middle of the night. I held you when you broke down behind the curtains of the rally stage, overwhelmed by the monumental pressure on your shoulders leading this fight. I made love to a mask for almost a decade and never questioned the face behind it because I trusted you with every fibre of my being. Every day I had away from the mayhem of the Equalists when we couldn't share time together, I'd spend it at Arzu's grave. It's in that meadow I brought you to after our first big demonstration together. Just beyond the tree line in a clearing by a rocky lily pond. One day, I wanted to sit down with you there and find out the real date we decided to commit to each other. Anyway, I'd tell her about the Amon I had the pleasure of knowing away from the spotlight and how you made me feel. I told her about the human being that lived inside the charismatic leader advocating at the podium. I thought she'd be happy knowing I'd found someone like you after all this hurt. I thought I'd see my downfall before it hit me. I never thought it would be you._

_If I knew you survived that explosion and could speak to your face, I'd say one thing._

"_I love you. You complete and utter bastard."_

Poles apart.


End file.
